[Her blank look holds out as Ema explains, flat and unchanging as the surface of a frozen lake....but then Ema makes that key comparison, and it's suddenly like spring has arrived, kindling new life and warmth in its wake. Lys leans forward, rapt, too caught up in feeling almost smart for once to be self-conscious of her own expressiveness and excited, gushing tone.]

Oh...oh! Like tracking an animal, yeah! There's so many things you gotta look for when you do that! Blood and scent and footprints in the mud or snow, broken branches and crushed grass....and it's all gone in an hour! Or even less if you're trying to follow the trail in bad weather.

[Now she's looking at Ema with a new and shining kind of respect, and not a little awe.]

You can really find itty bitty traces like that? Drops of blood and bits of hair and scraps from someone's shirt? Even after twenty years?